You wake up on a train with no passengers. It’s disturbingly quiet. The windows show only a confusing barrage of lights and imagery, like a city folding in on itself.

A conductor walks by and asks for your ticket. Of course, you don’t have one, so he instructs you to follow him. He leads you to the train’s caboose where a small party of people sit. The conductor speaks to one of the men there, whose face is on a book that another passenger holds— it says his name is Kenji Tomono.

If they’re okay with it, we don’t mind. It’s always encouraging to have more than one comrade, right?

The conductor leaves, and now it’s only you, the other passengers, and Tomono.

I shall explain. I was just explaining to a walk-in like you right now. Isn’t that right?

Another passenger nods. Tomono continues.

We are now heading towards the world that all of you have been wanting to go to. This train just happens to be used to jump into that world. So unfortunately, or shall I say, at the right time, you’ve all wandered into this place. It’s where you always talk about. “I’m so busy I want to go away somewhere. Isn’t there a world without interest? I’m sick of political parties and conspiracies, isn’t there a land that’s still pristine?”